A First Time For Everything

In case you didn't notice, this is my first time to print a retraction ... and my last. (If the Little Dutch Boy is still reading ... that obscure reference is for you, baby.)

So yesterday I suggested that Michael Richards was a racist but on the grand scale of racism through the ages, he probably ranked above your mother locking the car doors a little too quickly when your father drove through certain parts of town and just below ... oh, let's say ... the Grand Dragon of the KKK.

That was before I actually saw his apology on Letterman for myself, thanks to my Tivo unit that clearly is out to teach me a thing or two about tolerance in the American entertainment industry.

I'm seriously taking it all back. Seriously. Because of two things.

First, in his apology he said he said some pretty bad things to some "Afro Americans."

No, really. "Afro." I turned up the volume so loud and pushed the repeat button on the Tivo so many times to make sure, my neighbor started banging on the wall.

I suppose the word "wearing" in his sentence was silent. But come on, Michael. Out of touch much?

Second, as it all soaked in a bit, it occurred to me that had he tossed around the word "nigger" like Paul Rodriguez tosses around the word "faggot," he'd probably be a garden-variety racist.

Like Paul Rodriguez is. Oh, it's true. I wouldn't blog it if I hadn't heard it myself.

Instead, the very first thing out of his mouth was to pine for the old days when an uppity black would have been lynched. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where Paul Rodriguez (and it pains me to say it) is right. There is a line you can't cross in speech, and that's the line where you in any way hint that someone should be ... uh ... taught a lesson.

Strange fruit, hanging from the Southern trees. Blood on the roots and blood on the leaves.

That's not to be dismissed so handily. I was wrong.